


My Whole Existence is Flawed

by Sundance201



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Begging, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, The Six Thatchers Spoilers, Woman on Top, but like sherlock really gets off on it so...., vague threats of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundance201/pseuds/Sundance201
Summary: Mary utilizes Sherlock's bolt hole for a multitude of reasons. It's a safe haven and a place of calm - it's also a place where she can shag his brains out without anyone finding out.Fair warning, this is not a particularly John-friendly fic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [channyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/channyfaith/gifts).



> I definitely had a lot of fun writing this one. There are some spoilers for "The Six Thatchers" in this story, so please don't read if you haven't seen the episode and want to stay unspoiled.
> 
> Thanks to sherlollysmooch/channyfaith for the awesome prompt - consider this an early b-day gift! 
> 
> The title comes from "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. It only felt appropriate.

Originally, it was one of his boltholes. She’d discovered it when she was searching for him, after he had escaped the hospital. He rarely used it though, so she had started to use it for herself. You could take the woman out of spying game, but you couldn’t take the spying game out of the woman. She had various files, concoctions, and weapons stored in the place. The only other person who knew about it was Sherlock. She didn’t dare tell John about the bolt hole and how she’d kept all her spy stuff, not after the fit he’d thrown after finding out about her past life. 

It was her safe haven. Whenever she had a spare moment and just needed to get away, it was where she went. 

It also, coincidentally, was the first place that she shagged Sherlock Holmes. 

He’d stopped by one day while she was there. She had been wearing her tactical gear, making sure that everything was still fitting properly and in order. She didn’t think she’d need it – she hoped she didn’t. But she did want to be prepared. Just in case. 

She expected to see him flinch and shy away from her. She was, after all, wearing the exact outfit she had been wearing when she’d shot him. Instead, she saw his breath hitch, his eyes drinking in her outfit, his hand twitching slightly at his side. 

She also saw his cock stir in his trousers. That’s what he got for wearing such ridiculously tight trousers. 

“Old habits,” she said in an attempt to explain. He cleared his throat and nodded. 

“Of course. Have to make sure that everything is in working order. Never know when you might need it.”

Mary nodded. “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking down and starting take the vest off. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that he was staring at her, watching her every move. 

“In the neighborhood?”

She snorted. “Yeah right.” She pulled the vest off and set it aside on the table. “Really, why are you here, Sherlock?”

“Had a case. Wondered if you were free.”

“You could have texted.”

He shrugged. “Quicker to come and see you. The crime scene is only about ten minutes from here.” She took a step towards him…and then another and another, until she was almost within arm’s length of him. 

“Exciting case then?”

“Oh yes,” he said breathlessly, taking a step closer to her. 

“You really should just stop fibbing, Sherlock.”

He sighed and Mary took another step forward. They were practically toe to toe now. “Wanted to see you. I was bored.”

“And you thought I could do something about that?” she murmured, one hand on Sherlock’s chest, just slightly to the left of where she had shot him. She fiddled with one of the straining shirt buttons. 

Sherlock groaned. “Mary, please,” he pleaded with her. She grinned wickedly. 

“Please what, Sherlock? Please stop? Please don’t stop? Please shag you mercilessly against the closest solid surface?”

His grin was absolutely wicked. “The last one.” 

She giggled and slung an arm around his shoulder, her hand pressing against his neck in an attempt to pull his lips down to hers. “So predictable, Sherlock,” she teased, before all but devouring his mouth with a kiss. 

Before Sherlock really even knew what hit him, he was leaning back against the table as Mary slid his coat off and started attacking the buttons of his shirt. “Mary, wait, there’s something you need to know,” he murmured, grabbing her wrist and stopping her progress. 

“Were you going to tell me that John is cheating on me?” His jaw dropped and Mary held back her laughter. “Yesterday’s news, darling. He’s a terrible cheater – doesn’t even try to hide it when he’s texting her. Comes home smelling of her perfume.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sherlock whispered fiercely, leaning forward to capture her lips again. 

When they broke apart, Mary smiled at him, touching her forehead to his. “He is. But that’s why I keep you around.” Her nimble fingers had the first few buttons of his shirt undone and her fingertips skimmed across the newly revealed flesh. “My brilliant boy.” 

“We have to be quick,” he whispered. 

“Guess you’ll have to be good then,” she fired back, finishing with the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, immediately moving down to the button of his trousers. 

“Won’t take much to get you off. John’s a rather uninspired lover.”

“I know you don’t know that from experience. What, thin walls in 221B? Or did you deduce it?” Her eyes sparkled and Sherlock groaned as Mary, having already unbuttoned his trousers, unzipped him and slid her hand over his cock, still trapped within his pants. 

“Little bit of both. I could always tell when you were sexually frustrated – your tells were fairly obvious,” he panted, burying his face in the crook of her neck and slumping against her as she snapped the elastic of his pants against him, before snaking her hand inside. Her fingertips danced over his heated flesh, making their way down to his erection. She grasped him firmly. “Mary,” he groaned against her skin, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh. 

“You know what the best part of this bolt hole of yours is?” He shook his head and she shoved down his pants and trousers, leaving them to pool around his feet. She then pushed him to sit fully on the table and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her black utility trousers, pushing them down and out of the way as much as possible. She then climbed onto the table and straddled him. 

“It’s abandoned and out in the middle of nowhere.” She pulled aside her knickers and hovered over Sherlock, teasing his erection with her wetness, brushing against him, but never letting him enter. “Do you know what that means?”

His only response was a strangled moan as he shook his head again. His hands were at her hips, holding her steady, but he had enough sense to not try and guide her in any way. 

Her grin was positively sinful as she finally sank down on him. “It means no one will hear you scream.”

And with that, she started to ride him ruthlessly. Her mouth went to his neck, biting down and sucking on the pale flesh, leaving her mark. “Going to mark you, Sherlock. Again,” she murmured, moving to scratch at the still pink scar of the entry wound from her bullet. “For all the world to see. Do you think that John will notice? Do you think that he’ll recognize my mark?”

Sherlock just whimpered beneath her, holding onto her for dear life and she continued to slam her hips down, fucking him until he did feel that scream bubbling up from his chest. She suddenly brought both hands to his chest and pushed, laying him out on the table beneath her. Her fingers strayed to his nipples, pinching at them as she continued to writhe on top of him. “Oh God!” 

Mary smirked. “Not quite,” she muttered, an echo of his response so long ago in the restaurant where John was going to propose to her. 

He grinned up at her, before his eyes practically rolled back in his head as she twisted her hips in a particularly wicked way.

“Come for me, darling. Come for me, you brilliant, beautiful boy,” Mary said, letting her hand trail from his chest to where their bodies met and she started to furiously rub at her clit. “Scream for me,” she whispered, biting down on his neck again.

“MARY!” he bellowed as he finally exploded beneath her, his cock pulsing in her warm, wet heat. 

She moaned against his neck as her orgasm followed shortly after, her pelvic floor squeezing his sensitive cock. 

They rested there, on the table, as their breath came back to them. Sherlock’s hands moved from Mary’s hips, to her back, still covered by the black turtle neck that she wore. His palms ran in soothing circles on her back, finally stilling when both of their breathing evened out and synchronized. 

“Do you think he’ll notice?” Sherlock asked after a few moments of silence. 

Mary snorted. “Nope. Too preoccupied with his little bit on the side.” She propped herself up on his chest, looking at him with a sly grin on her face. “He saved her number just under the letter ‘E.’ Because that isn’t suspicious at all.”

She pushed herself up and carefully moved herself off of Sherlock, standing on only slightly wobbly legs before offering Sherlock a hand up as well. He sat up, but stayed perched on the table, watching as Mary readjusted her knickers and bent down to pull up her trousers, quickly zipping and buttoning them. She grinned at him, still practically naked with his pants and trousers bunched around his ankles. 

“I think we should do this regularly,” he said with some authority to his voice. Mary moved forward bridging the small gap between them. 

“Oh you do, do you?” She stood between his legs and her hand darted out, grabbing his too-sensitive cock and rubbed her thumb briefly against the head. Sherlock jerked and groaned in beautiful agony, his fists clenching so that he wouldn’t bat her hands away. Not really wanting to cause him pain, her grip on him released and she moved her hand to the much safer territory of his thigh. “What word should accompany a request like that, Sherlock?” she whispered, leaning into him and speaking the words against his lips in an imitation of a kiss. 

“Please,” he panted, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her closer to him, as close as she could get. “Please, Mary. Let me have you.”

She kissed him properly this time, her teeth and tongue ravishing him. “How could I deny such a sweet request?” she whispered against his lips, before diving back in again. 

Without warning, she broke away from him, loving the slightly dazed look on his face at the rapid shift in movement. “Shall we make a wager on how long it takes him to notice that I’m shagging you rotten?”

He laughed. “What’s the point? You always win.”

She grinned and brushed her lips against his in the gentlest kiss they had shared thus far. “That’s right. I do.”


End file.
